


love lost (now we've found it)

by tmrs



Series: nice to meet you (I'm your other half) [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Funny maybe?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmrs/pseuds/tmrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Good afternoon Mr. Reus!" the guy with boyish features standing at his doorstep flashes him a wide smile and Marco held his breath because a) what the hell is he doing there, and most important, b) how he dares to be so damn happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love lost (now we've found it)

**Author's Note:**

> Fatou, thanks for actually talking to me and being genuinely excited whenever I talk (too much I know) about something I'm planning to write. You're beyond kind. I know this is one is about my faves not yours, but it's a gift for you nonetheless x

_"Hello!"_ her honeyed voice echoes cheerfully. _"If you're hearing this is because we are not... wait, Marco_ don't _you dare! I mean it, not the damn ketchup or I- OH MY, I SWEAR TO GOD!"_ a thud announces the phone hit the floor before it's picked up again. _"Hi, this is Marco, if I don't call you back in a few days is because she got me and AH, NOT THE HAIR!-"_

 

_If you are sure you'd like to delete this answering machine greeting, please, dial 2._

 

Marco's thumb hovers the red button to end the call for a moment. He knows it shouldn't have any kind of hesitation at this point. Not after a week of hell she had put him through, but still, that was the only way he had of hearing her talking like he wasn't a complete stranger. That voice-mail recorded last than five months ago when she moved into his place was a prove they did have something good going on once.

 

_If you are sure you'd like to delete this answering machine greeting, please, dial 2._

 

The empty wardrobe where the doors still hung open was a prove they didn't have it anymore and the absence of many other things forgotten behind in the middle of some anger outbreak was a prove they were dying a long time ago. He remembers her last words full of hate and how she blamed him for every single crack of their relationship.

 

 _If you are_ su _-This greeting was deleted. If you want to record a new answering machine greeting message, please, dial 3._

 

His own blood starts to boil inside the veins before he pushes the phone, breaking the wires before throwing it with all his might against the living room wall. Once Marco begins and the fury is unleashed he can't quite stop himself anymore, reaching for the ridiculous jar to crash it against the center table before moving on to pull all the books from the shelf, kicking the ones falling at his feet and shouting curses at the empty house. Marco also rips all the dumb red cushions apart. Fuck it, he doesn't even like red. He's finishing the last one when the bell ring.

Groaning annoyed Marco make his way through all the foam covering big part of the floor and marches towards the door, swinging it open abruptly expecting to see some of his friends or maybe his ex's father send to take something he had probably broken minutes before. What he finds isn't none of these things.

"Mr. Reus?"

"Yes."

"Good afternoon Mr. Reus!" the guy with boyish features standing at his doorstep flashes him a wide smile and Marco held his breath because a) what the hell is he doing there, and most important, b) how he dares to be so damn happy. "Looks like you required our services..."

He uses the thumb to point at the car that shows a logo Marco quickly recognize, it makes him groan again. That was becoming a habit.

"Today?"

"It's scheduled for..." he checks the paper he's holding. "Today, yeah, 3:15 pm. Technically I'm five minutes early so I can wait here and knock again if you'd prefer."

Marco does nothing but raises a single eyebrow in warning, the other male drops the shoulders and wilts like a plant turning limp. Marco thinks that's better for everybody.

"I'm sorry sir, if you're busy we can reschedule."

He bit the lip for a moment considering closing the door at the visitors face, turn around and go back to smash the rest of the house. After all, there was still the other rooms to “clean”. There was still pictures frames to punch and china to shatter, but then he remembers the reason he called. That's enough for him to make his mind for good.

"No! No reschedule, I need this done as soon as possible."

"Ok," the guy picks his tool bag from the ground looking ready. "Show me the way, Mr. Reus."

Turning around on the heels and closing the door, Marco feels kind of bad because the house had been pretty much upside down for weeks, that's true, but his meltdown didn't really helped at all. There's glass, foam and ripped tissue everywhere. He can spot a heap of clothes behind the sofa and empty take out food boxes under the TV. Wait, did he just saw the Pringles tube rolling by itself? The guy doesn't ask anything and Marco is more than grateful for it.

"Uhm... yeah. The thing is on the suite bathroom."

"No problem." he smiles again and oh, that boy was brave, that's for sure.

Marco forgets to groan this time because once they enter the bedroom he gets too worried if the pizza he had had four days earlier - and still lies under the sun that cracked from the blinds because he was too lazy to shut - had already created some sort of life itself and maybe some roots that would climb the walls like bindweed. Fortunately it hadn't, yet.

"Ok,” Marco says to himself before continue to lead the way. “Uhm, the toilet."

"God, is always the toilet..." the other mumbles almost inaudible behind him.

"Excuse me?" Marco asks before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and being horrified from it, missing the answer. "Hmmm, do you mind if I leave you here? I have to take care of some things..."

"Oh that's fine, you can go."

"Ok, call me if-"

He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he basically runs out to the laundry room to get a shirt that's not stained of tomato sauce or any other leftover he don't even remember getting and shoves it on the washing machine with the pile of clothes from the living room, switches to a new t-shirt after using the spare bathroom to wash his face and brush the teeth. Marco feels more human and a less disgusting for sure and yet too lazy to shave the thick stubble that covers part of his face and neck. He still have self-love, but we can't get all we want in life, can we? That would do for now.

Heading back to the living room he collects the foam to dispose it on the kitchen’s garbage. His eyes get fixed on the big calendar clung on the right side of the refrigerator where a shiny heart had been drawn with a pink marker around the 10th day of that month. Before he even noticing there's a pen on his hand painting over it that don't stop until the liquid runs out, a hole is made on the paper beneath the tip. In the end, he decides to use the calendar for wrapping the shattered jar and throwing away with the rest of trash feeling a bit lighter.

When Marco goes back to the bedroom and leans against the door frame, the guy doesn't look so happy anymore. His eyebrows are knitted together in frustration and the fingers covered by the gloves are drumming the seat.

"So, how's going?"

Once his eyes leave the tool bag Marco notices his surprise and it's pretty obviously the reason. With his hair nicely combed behind, the clean shirt and with the diction of a normal person instead of dinosaur grunts, he doesn't look like a serial killer anymore. The realization and shame from basically everything hit Marco, making him shift uncomfortably and scratch the earlobe, an old nervous habit.

"Oh, you... Yeah! Look..." the guy sighed heavily. "Believe me, I really hate having to ask, but it’s definably not something usual and it would be easier if you could tell me what got stuck here."

"Uhm..." Marco crosses the arms and frowns. With his two coworkers and best friends out of town with the company that was the first time he would be actually speaking about it. Verbalizing that was like admitting his mistakes and at the same time getting rid of that is letting go of it all – good and bad. He feels ready. "It's a-a wedding ring."

"Oh..."

"It's still in the damn red velvet box so it must be it..."

"Probably yeah, how long..." the guy asks and grimaces. "I'm sorry, but..."

"A week." Marco nods. "I haven't stepped in here since because, well..."

"Sure," they remain in silence for a moment before he comes back to work, eyebrows furred in concentration. "Don't worry Mr. Reus, I'll fix this for you."

“Thanks, but hey,” He smiles again and this time Marco wishes he could do the same. He sighs though, relieved and hopeful. "I just told you about my early divorce with my ex-kind-of-future-wife so just call me Marco."

"Marco it is then!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name earlier."

"Uhm, I'm Mario."

For a moment, Marco just stands there with no expression and he stares back patiently. Then Marco squint the eyes, tilts the head a bit not really buying that and nothing changes. When the pieces fall into places Marco feels an uncontrollable sensation bubbling deep down his chest, it makes the way up to his throat and breaks away as a fit of guffaws until his eyes are watery, his body bending slightly forward.

"Your nam-Your name is Ma-Mario and you're a pl-plumber?" he stutters between laughs.

"I know how it sounds, ridiculous right?"

“It's hilarious!" Marco uses the sleeves to dry the eyes. "You should definitely answer your calls with 'it's me, Mario!' and God-"

The fit starts again and Mario frowns. "If you choke the only thing I have in hands to save you in that plunger, just saying..."

Marco coughs and sits at the border of the bathtub pressing the hands against the rib cages trying to breathe in normally.

"I'm sorry, but at least," he giggles. "Tell me you use it on business cards..."

Mario shakes his head from side to side, but he's giving a soft laugh too while looking for the right tool to use next.

"Look, Mario," Marco snorts a laugh that sounds like a dying animal from trying to keep serious. Then he takes a deep breath and manages to turn down a bit transforming that into a smile with teeth. "I didn't mean to be rude..."

"That's fine" he shrugs.

"It happens often?"

"No. I usually just give clients my last name, but I have two brothers so... And before you ask, none of them are called Luigi ok?" Marco chuckles again and it's surprising even for him. "You look like you could use some laughs, I guess it was worth the embarrassment."

"I didn't know I still knew how to do it,” he muses almost inaudibly and a little amazed. Marco had forgotten the sound of his own laugh. “It has been like hell and I don't know… I'm not sad anymore you know? I'm angry and ashamed that I was so blind.”

“You’re not supposed to be rational when you’re in love... If it’s not insane and unexpected then is not really love, right?” with a final push Mario smiles again and takes the wet crumpled red velvet box out of the toilet, looking up to find the other smiling. "Well, I think is safe to say that things are getting better."

When a phone rings moments later Marco smile dies again and he gets uptight before remembering he had actually destroyed the one at the living room so his eyes go back to Mario. He sighs and doesn't make any mention to pick it up.

"I'll just put this all in place and it's all done Mr-Marco."

"No problem, thanks for d-"

The phone starts ringing again, don't stop until the last beep and then starts once more.

"You should pick this up. Seems like it's something important." Mario gives him a look that let him know it's not quite a good moment to let go of the pipes, take off the gloves, wash the hands and answer the phone so Marco shrugs. "Do you want me to do it for you?"

"If you really think won't be a problem..." Marco waves it off. The guy had just got rid of one of the last memories of the worst break up he ever had, he could answer a phone call. "It's in my pocket."

Marco manages to fish it out the pocket of his blue uniform and the screen shows a picture of Mario with the arms around a blonde lady who was similar to him. The ID showed "mama" and a crown emoji. Marco feels the corner of the lips going upwards as he holds the phone so Mario can see it and gets a grimace in response.

"I think it's better if I put on speaker?"

"Yes..." Mario slips the forehead against the shirt sleeve as he can clearly looking anxious. Marco knows he should leave, but maybe his ex was right and he was a prick after all. He clicks the green button. "Mom, I'm working right now!"

_"Did you ever think that maybe the reason you're called to fix so many toilets it's because you answer your mother like that young boy? Huh?"_

"I'm sorry mama," he mumbles way softer. "I'm busy so you're on speaker, please behave?"

 _"Oh I know you hate getting calls while working sunny bear,"_ Mario drops a wrench and tries to hide the flushing cheeks from Marco. _"But have you checked the news? There's a severe weather warning! A red one which indicates those wind cones that eat cows, I forgot the name…"_

“Hurricanes mom."

_"... I want you to stay under a safe roof until is safe to leave!"_

"Mom, I can't stay on people house like that!" he hisses and the shades of pink of his cheek go darker.

_"This is about safety Mario! Do you want me to talk to the owner? Handle him or her the phone and I'll do it. Wait, you said I was on speaker? Helloooo, can someone else hear me? Help a poor mother out!"_

Marco holds a laugh because looks like Mario is about to shove his head on the toilet and flush it. When he breaths in again he mouths that all there's left to do is taking off the gloves and washing the hands so Marco nods in agreement taking the phone off the speaker and bringing it to the ear.

"Marco Reus speaking, Mrs?"

_"Götze. Look..."_

Mario's surprised when finds Marco sit on the bed still on the phone with his mom, it should be worrying they seem engaged on a conversation about the 1996 movie Twister and how Helen Hunt played her character. Marco finally nods and Mario watches quietly as the corner of his mouth rises slightly.

"No problem! You have my word Astrid, it was nice to talk to you too. Bye bye."

The call is over and is clear Mario is annoyed once he snaps the phone back from the other's hand. He fills the remaining requirements on the paper from the work when they are at the doorstep, Marco is taking the notes from the wallet. The dark gray sky is scary and they hear the noise of the wind as the trees branches knocks against the windows.

"Is looking really bad."

"I'm not a seven years old kid and that was already overly embarrassing, thank you very fucking much mom..." Mario snorts. "Besides, I'm sure you have too much going on and there's a waffle house some blocks from here, I can stop there."

"I'm sure you're right, but you know what's really embarrassing?” Mario raises the eyes to look at his. “Only deciding to get rid of the engagement ring I was about to give my ex a week ago, even though she left me for staying with her hideous new guy almost two months before, and doing it by flushing the thing still inside the box. That's fucked up and honestly, my head was probably the next thing I was going to break if you hadn't come to fix it..."

They stare at each other and Marco scratches the back of the neck before continuing.

"The weather really sucks, but besides that, you did much more than just checking a toiled here. Plus, I repaid you with an insane fit of laugh when you told me your name, which was rude so please, let me make it up for it ok? There's plenty of alcohol on my fridge from the break-up hungover one man party. " he let the head hit the wall behind him. "What do you say?"

Mario wide smile makes another appearance. "Okay"

"Come on Super Mario, let's go back inside."

 

The bottle caps rolls over the center table top as Marco click their beer necks together. By the time the rain begins to pour Mario already learned that Marco was something like a project management assistant, that he can't whistle and can only open jars with the right hand even being lefty. Marco discovers that the plumber thing is a family business which Mario didn't get the luck his brother did to scape, that his dream vacation is Cape Town and that he's scared of lobsters for some reason.

"Do you guys really have to wear this uniform?"

"We have," Mario answers while unbuttoning the jumper to free his arms after the first beer. "The cool part is: because is one piece we don't have to worry about seeing the old fatter guys ass crack or ever showing ours".

"That's actually clever."

"I'm just glad is not blue or red..."

“What was the weirdest thing you ever found?” Marco turns to look at him properly.

“On a toilet? Uhm,” Mario thinks for a moment before snapping the tongue. “I've found a fake teeth at some old ladies house once.”

“How did she...”

“She claims that was about to flush and sneezed. The worst part is that she was planning to wash the thing and keep using it.”

Marco has to hold the bottle for a little longer and wait until the laugh subsides to finally take a sip as Mario checks his cell phone and snorts.

“My mom is… Impossible.”

"Your mom is cool." Marco gets an incomprehensible noise as an answer and the other holds the phone in front of his eyes so he can read the text.

 

 **From mama:** make sure to snap a picture of this marco guy so I can see if his look makes justice to the nice voice!!!!!!!!!!!! he's handsome isn't he?

 

“Forget what I said about her,” Marco smirks. “She's more than just cool. Too bad I won't be able to reach her expectations since I'm probably with the appearance of a hobo... What will you reply?”

“You'll never know.” Marco nudges his elbow almost causing him to drop his beer, chuckling. “You're not that bad to look at, but get her started and she won't stop. She would probably tell me to go on and invite you over for dinner in our house to repay the favor.”

“Dinner huh?”

"Crazy right? Moms…”

Marco grins watching him take a long gulp of beer. “I would really like to have dinner actually.”

“Ok,” he coughs. “I’ll let her know then…”

“I’m glad she called.” Mario hums probably about to say something about how she could be a little more subtle and Marco cuts him. “Really, she just doesn't want you dead at the storm. My mom is probably disappointed because I'm a failure in relationships... You know," Marco hits the back of the hand gently on his shoulder. "She even got happy when I tried dating a guy. She thought that if I couldn't find any girl who would like me maybe a boy could."

It crosses Marco's mind that maybe he should be worried about another personal big thing about his life to someone he met an hour and half ago. However, if his guts are right, if he still remembers how that works and if they had really spent the last ten minutes flirting, then the best thing to do is be honest. The rain was falling and tip-tapping the windows harder, he haven't had company for longer than he can remember, sharing those things mixed with the beer makes him feel lighter. Mario doesn't cringe listening to this confession either, instead, he smiles sympathetic and shrugs.

"You just haven't found someone yet."

"Oh c'mom! Don't tell me you're one of those hopeless romantic guys, there-is-good-people-out-there type..."

"Well, I'm one of the good people so..."

There's silence and Marco let that sink in for a moment, eyes lost at the pair of socks he had forgotten to pick it up from beneath the shelf, but the right corner of his mouth slightly twisted upwards.

"My mom baked me a cake." Marco looks at Mario with the eyebrows knitted together not sure about what they're talking about anymore. "When I came out."

"Really?" he shifts on the sofa for a better position rediscovering the exciting sensation of possibilities. A lightning paint the living room in white for a second and Mario sinks a bit at his seat turning their lines of sight even.

"Uhm, yeah. I was so nervous about telling my father that I blacked out after the words left my mouth. When I woke up, mom told me she was proud of how brave I was and that she had made me a Prinzregententorte..."

The night falls and the weather gets worst, but they only notice how bad is turning when the power goes out and still, that's not enough from keeping them from talking pushing the sleep away. They make a game which consists basically of changing the subject every time a lightning strikes the sky. With more than a few beers at their system is not that much of a surprise when it becomes more personal, the sense of intimacy grows encouraged by the darkness of the stuffy living room turning subjects into confessions and suddenly they don't even remember the storm. Without a warning, Marco shifts on the sofa and there's a sound of something getting popped open.

“You know what? Keep this...”

In the dark, he finds Mario's hand to deposit an object at the palm. Mario touches it with his fingers to find out it's the wedding ring. “A couple of beers and you are already proposing to me, Mr. Reus? Do I look that easy?”

“Call me like that again I'll start imagining the honeymoon in Cape Town.”

“That's a dirty trick.”

“It's pretty dirty indeed.”

“You know,” Mario can't see more than the contour of Marco's face in the dim light which is ok because then he can't see the flush on his cheeks. “If we met in another occasion like a bar or something where I wouldn't be working and you wouldn't be heartbroken, I would be all over you.”

“Nah, you wouldn't...”

“Oh, I would.”

“It was my beard isn't?”

“Or the psychopath stare you gave opening the door, I can't make my mind...” Marco cracks up in guffaws that fill the room and Mario's joins him straight after. “I like your laugh. Your ex's an idiot.”

“Look,” Mario can feel the warmth of his body because Marco had leaned against him during all the chuckling, his cheek rest at Mario's shoulder before he starts nuzzling into his neck. The voice is barely a whisper as their eyes fall shut. “I won't kiss you today, but I can't promise anything tomorrow morning, right?”

“Right,” Mario whispers back resting the head on top of his.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this honestly, it just happened. Title from The Temper Trap music.  
> Thank you for reading as always xx


End file.
